


When You Kiss Me

by Britty



Category: Marilyn Manson (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Awkwardness, Blushing, Comedy, Developing Relationship, First Kiss, Flirting, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Gift Giving, Humor, M/M, Mechanical Animals Era, Misunderstandings, Oblivious, Pining, Romance, Secret Crush, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-03-28
Packaged: 2019-12-26 00:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18272144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Britty/pseuds/Britty
Summary: Five times John kissed Ginger in some way, and one time Ginger finally took the hint.





	When You Kiss Me

**Author's Note:**

> I recently saw John 5 for the first time and I've been feeling very happy since then, so I wrote this. I have no shame.

**1**

The first time it happened, Ginger wasn't sure how he should take it. The moment was so subtle and misleading, not to mention tooth-rottingly cute; Ginger had to visit the Doctor to get his heart checked out.

It all started when the new guitar player had joined the band, a young blond named John, who was honestly too much of a sweetheart to be associated with such a controversial group. But because he was a pro at shredding the six-string, everyone accepted him into the band.

Well, _almost_ everyone.

Pogo hated John for some reason. Everyone had their speculations, of course. Most people reckoned it was because of Zim Zum, as the ex-guitarist was best friends with Pogo. Manson, on the other hand, believed with absolute confidence that it was sexual tension between the two. Ginger would never admit it aloud, but he wanted to throttle the man for suggesting such a thing. Instead of acting on the impulse, as he was rather content with his job, he agreed with the more obvious theory of Pogo's hatred for John. Honestly, if Manson just took the time to get to know the new guy like Ginger had, then he would know that John was actually scared of the psychopath.

"Is that why you guys call him Pogo?" John had once asked Ginger after an incident involving watermelons. Ginger hadn't given him a straight answer, opting for vague replies because he didn't want to scare the poor guy any further. Unfortunately, John probably would never look at watermelons the same way again.

So when Pogo came into the studio holding a fucking watermelon, John silently snuck out of the room like a ninja in the night.

Ginger noticed John's departure and sighed, shaking his head. "Pogo, do you have to do that?"

"Whatever do you mean?" asked Pogo, feigning innocence.

Sighing again, Ginger stood up to follow John. There was no point in trying to make Pogo see reason; it would just be a total waste of time for both of them. He made his way to the only place John would be: the break room. Sure enough, there he was, sitting on one of the sofas. He looked up when he heard Ginger come in and smiled.

"Nice of you to join me," he said.

Ginger chuckled. "Well, you did just leave in the middle of our conversation."

John's smile turned sheepish. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Ginger waved a hand in dismissal. "Never mind. So what were you telling me about Halford?"

Their conversation continued as though they had never been interrupted. Ginger took in every word John said. He was fascinated. John was brought up well for a high-class kid, not snobby or spoiled, and Ginger liked that. Since their meeting, Ginger had developed a bit of a crush on the guy. He should do something about it, but his shyness kept him from doing anything. No matter though. Ginger was perfectly happy with the friendship he had with John.

"...anyway, would you like a kiss?" John suddenly asked.

Ginger hadn't realized he had spaced out, so if John noticed his flinch at the question, he didn't say anything. "A **what**?" he spluttered.

"A kiss," John repeated, and Ginger spluttered some more. "You okay there?"

"Yes," Ginger said in a small squeak.

"Yes, you're okay? Or yes, you'd like one?" John tilted his head and blinked. He looked like a confused puppy.

"Yes, I would like one," Ginger clarified.

John nodded, and Ginger closed his eyes. He could hear shuffling. This was it. It was going to happen. They were going to kiss. John was going to kiss him. John was going to—

"Here you go."

Ginger looked down and died just a little. Held out for him in John's hand was a small and silver Hershey Kiss.

Oh.

He looked back up at John and saw amusement. Ginger narrowed his eyes. "Were you really asking me if I wanted a _Hershey_ Kiss?"

"Course I was," he said. "What _other_ kiss could I have offered?"

His eyes were twinkling.

 _What a tease_.

**2**

It had been a couple of months since the Hershey thing. John was thankfully merciful at never mentioning that little misunderstanding, and Ginger liked him more for that.

As a result, their friendship had grown exponentially. The two would always talk and hang out, sharing stories of their lives and doing activities together. They were as drawn to one another like a bee to a flower, both constantly in each other's company.

In other words, they were best friends.

So when it was Ginger's birthday, it wasn't much of a surprise that John showed up at Ginger's doorstep with a present.

"What is it?" he asked, eyeing the blue gift bag. It was light in his hands, and it had a bunch of paper wrap inside it, concealing the gift within it. Ginger was secretly flattered that John remembered his birthday. The guy had even made the effort of getting him something, flattering Ginger even more.

"Open it," John said excitedly.

Ginger did. He moved the paper aside and peered into it. He immediately snapped his eyes up to John, who was practically vibrating.

"Dude," was all Ginger could say. He reached into the bag and pulled out an obnoxiously orange-red fish plushie. " _Seriously_?"

John guffawed. "I'm sorry, but I had to. I saw it, and it just reminded me of you. Haha."

Ginger felt his cheeks burn and averted his eyes, looking down at the plushie. It had big, shiny dark eyes and a little curved smile on its face, complete with two little pink circles on its cheeks in a cheap imitation of a blush. It was sickeningly cute, like an anime character. He couldn't see why the plush toy reminded John of him, aside from the colour and the fact that it was a fish, but it made Ginger feel bubbly inside, happy in the knowledge that this simple thing reminded John of him.

He held the plushie to his chest and gave John a shy smile. "That's very thoughtful of you, man. Thanks."

John beamed. "I'm glad!" And then he turned sheepish. "Well, I better go." Ginger's smile fell a little and John hastened to explain, "I gotta be at Manson's house in an hour. He wants me to practice playing with him."

"Oh, okay then," replied Ginger, nodding. He honestly wished that John would stay and hang out with him, especially on his birthday. But knowing Manson, John was better off being punctual.

"Sorry I can't stay," John said sincerely. But then he brightened up. "How about we go to the movies after I'm done? My treat."

That sounded nice. Ginger nodded his approval, and John brightened even more.

"Great!" he beamed. "I'll see you then."

After Ginger's nod, John turned to leave, but before Ginger could close the door, he called, "Oh, and Ginge?"

"Yeah?" asked Ginger, holding the door.

John blew a kiss to Ginger and grinned. "Happy Birthday," he said, before turning around and leaving.

Ginger spontaneously combusted.

**3**

"Stop scowling," John demanded. "You'll get wrinkles."

"I'm not scowling," said Ginger, a little miffed.

"Your pinched face says otherwise," said John. "You even have a wrinkle on your nose."

John was right; Ginger was scowling. But not for the reasons John probably thought. At the moment, the two men were standing in the laundry room of the hotel that the band were staying in. They each held a large tub full of dirty clothes, and not just theirs, but also the other band members as well. It was gross.

Doing the laundry wasn't part of their job, but after the main laundry guy had lost one of Manson's shirts, the guy was promptly fired on the spot. Thus, Manson dubbed Ginger with laundry duty, saying he was the only competent man for the job. John was only with him because he had volunteered to help, citing that two pairs of hands were better than one. Bless his little heart.

As for why they were standing around instead of doing the laundry? Well, it was because of two old ladies who were doing their laundry at a delicate, snail pace. Being the gentlemen they were, they let the two birds fulfil their task — even though they were taking their sweet-ass time and seemed to be oblivious of their presence.

So it was understandable why John would mistake his scowl as a result of his annoyance towards the business at hand. In all actuality, Ginger was scowling because he had a bothersome itch on his nose that he couldn't scratch. He had no way of relieving it, his hands were full, and it would be uncouth of him to rub his nose against something. So he settled for surreptitiously sniffing, but that was about as helpful as a flower in a room full of skunks. And so he scowled.

 _Damn it_.

"My nose is itchy," he finally explained. His nose took that moment to itch with burning agitation, and Ginger snorted loudly in a futile attempt to relieve it. Politeness be damned.

John looked at him, half scandalized and half amused. "Oh," he said. "I see. Ha."

Ginger grunted, not at all amused. They stood in silence, the only sounds being the rustling of clothes and soft chitter-chatters from the two old ladies. But then—

"Would you like some help with that?" John asked casually.

"What?" Ginger all but barked. His nose twitched.

"Here," said John, turning to him. "Let me just..."

He leaned in. His face was coming close to his own. Ginger automatically closed his eyes and then — _Oh_ , _god_ , _that felt so good_. John was rubbing his nose against Ginger's, relieving him of the Devil that was the itch. It was heavenly, and it felt so orgasmic in a way that Ginger couldn't help but purr.

He purred. He actually _purred_ like a fucking cat.

Mortified, Ginger popped his eyes open in time to see John pull back. He was sporting a massive blush; it was a miracle that his head didn't burst from all the flush. Ginger felt the same.

Very shyly, John coughed and asked, "Better?"

Ginger was pretty sure that he portrayed the image of his namesake. Eyes wide, mouth opening and closing, and he was undoubtedly sporting a mad blush as well. Despite this, he attempted to play it cool.

"Yeah," Ginger said with feigned nonchalance, then added, "Thanks."

From the corner of his eye, Ginger saw John smile.

**4**

Ginger stared blankly at the carousel, waiting for the airport to spit out his luggage. He was dead tired and very jetlagged. Travelling from Paris to Los Angeles could do that to a person.

It was the Christmas holidays, and the band were taking a break from tour. They would recommence on New Year's Eve in Las Vegas, where Ginger would reunite with them, as he had planned to spend the holidays with his parents in Vegas until the show. But before he could do all that, Ginger needed to get home and recharge. If only his stupid luggage would hurry the fuck up.

"There's mine," said John out of nowhere. He and Ginger had been waiting for their luggage together. The rest of the band had gotten theirs earlier and were probably halfway home by now. _Lucky bastards_. John swooped in and claimed his large bag, hoisting the strap over his shoulder with a grunt. Then he shifted his attention to Ginger and nodded. "Well, I'm off then."

"Okay, see you," Ginger mumbled, and added, "Have a Merry Christmas."

John smiled the most lovely smile Ginger had ever seen. Then he leaned in and kissed him on the cheek, quick and sweet, and Ginger's brain short-circuited.

"Have a Merry Christmas to you too, Kenny," John said, smiling again. "See you in Vegas."

Then he turned around and left.

Ginger remained where he stood like an idiot. The people who passed him surely thought he was, but he didn't care. All he cared about was what John did.

He called him Kenny. John called him by his given name rather than his stage name like he usually did, something he'd never done before. It was strange, but at the same time, it was sweet. And then there was the kiss. It was so innocent, like two kids in a playground, but it held affection that only one would give to someone special, and it made Ginger giddy with joy.

Once Ginger had his luggage, he left the airport with a spring in his step and a goofy smile on his face.

**5**

"Three. Two. One. HAPPY NEW YEAR!"

The crowd roared with applause as 1999 arrived. Multi-coloured lights flashed, pyrotechnics went off, Manson screamed, the drums pounded, the guitar squealed, the bass boomed, and Pogo drank a beer. A perfect way to welcome a new year.

Backstage, the celebrations continued. Manson was singing a Mansonesk version of Auld Lang Syne, firecrackers were being set off, and the roadies were running around like school children. It was all fun.

Too indulged in the celebrations, Ginger hadn't noticed an over-excited John dashing towards him and was therefore nearly bowled over when John wrapped himself around Ginger in a tight hug.

"Happy New Year, Ginger," he whispered to Ginger's ear, making the tiny hairs on his neck stand on end.

Ginger returned the hug, momentarily noticing how well their bodies fit together, and whispered back, "Happy New Year to you too, John."

They turned their heads towards each other at the same time when they were about to disengage from the hug, only to inadvertently brush lips in a whisper of a kiss. They froze, both of them letting out a small gasp of surprise. There was a moment where everything just stopped. They stared at each other, eyes locked, neither speaking a word. John still had his arms around Ginger's neck. For the slightest split second, Ginger thought that John was going to kiss him. Really kiss him.

But then the moment was ruined by a cat-call from Pogo, and the two pulled apart like a pair of teenagers caught in the act. John's cheeks were bright red, and Ginger imagined he was in a similar state. Despite this, Ginger gave Pogo a pointed glare. Pogo just grinned at him and winked. The nerve of him.

Ginger returned his gaze to John, expecting to see embarrassment, but instead, he found him smirking. _Smirking_. Before Ginger could question him about it, John winked at him and swaggered off in those tight leather shorts.

 _Damn_.

**+1**

On Valentine's Day, Ginger decided to make his move.

The timing was perfect, albeit a little cheesy for his taste. But after seven months of dancing around each other, it was time to make things official. It was also a plus that the band were on break from tour again, so Ginger didn't have to worry about interruptions.

He drove out to a random store and bought a box of chocolates. He didn't need the damn thing in hopes to woo the blond, but he figured that he should at least present the guy with the idea that he was interested in him. Besides, his mother would be ashamed of him not being a gentleman towards his love interest.

Once he was at the front door of John's house, chocolates in hand, he took a moment to prepare himself. He inhaled deeply, held it, then released, repeating the exercise two more times before squaring his shoulders.

He rung the door bell.

A beat passed.

Then the door opened, and there stood John, confused and still in his pyjamas. "Ginger? What are you—"

"I like you!" Ginger blurted out and winced, his cheeks burning.

 _Very smooth_.

John blinked. Twice. Then he let out a small laugh and smiled at him. "What took you so long?"

Ginger gaped. Had John been anticipating this? He pondered the thought for a moment; then he mentally rolled his eyes. Of course he had. It was so obvious that John was interested in him, especially with all those subtle hints and show of affection, and Ginger wanted to smack himself for being a bit too slow on the uptake.

He shifted his feet and mumbled, "Well, better late than never." Remembering the box of chocolates in his hands, he held it out for John to take. "I got you this."

"Not very romantic, are you?" John drawled, taking the offered gift and putting it on the nearby side table.

Ginger grimaced. He honestly wasn't a fan of the fraud holiday that was Valentine's Day. "I prefer to show my affection by other means."

"Oh?" said John, eyes twinkling. "How so?"

He backed up as Ginger stepped through the threshold and closed the door with his foot. Ginger crowded into John's space, keeping eye contact with him. John's breathing was slow and light, and his cheeks were tinged a lovely shade of pink. Ginger leaned in just a little, their noses bumping and their lips barely touching.

Before closing the distance, Ginger whispered, "Like this," and then he pressed his lips onto John's.

When people said that the first kiss was like an explosion of feelings, they weren't fucking exaggerating. The moment their lips met, Ginger felt his heart skip a beat, his breath catch, and his knees weaken. It was cliché as all fuck.

John's lips were soft and warm, and when his lips parted in a silent invitation, Ginger didn't hesitate to plunge his tongue into John's mouth. He tasted of something sweet and minty, a lovely blend of flavour that Ginger found enticing. The kiss was slow and passionate, never crossing into hot and heavy, but it was still earnest. Lips caressed and tongues explored, getting into the rhythm and learning what the other liked. As amazing as the kiss was, Ginger needed to take a breather before he passed out from lack of oxygen.

He pulled away and opened his eyes, meeting John's beautiful brown ones. Neither of them made to move or speak a word. They just stood there, staring at each other.

After a while, John spoke. "Hey, Kenny?"

He called him Kenny again. Ginger could get used to that. "Hmm?"

John smiled that infectious smile of his and said, "I like you too."

Ginger bit his lip and smiled back. He affectionately rubbed his nose with John's and replied, "Good."


End file.
